


After Sunlight

by ProperPunctuation



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Demonstuck, Gen, Gore, i didnt mean for it to be davekat-ish but ??? i guess we'll see where it goes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-09 15:35:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1988334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProperPunctuation/pseuds/ProperPunctuation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karkat Vantas is never alone. There's something else knocking around in his head, something deep, dark, inhuman. He no longer knows, or cares, where it ends and he begins.<br/>Maybe he doesn't have to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lions, Cats, And Other Carnivorous Things

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first really serious writing in a while, but I've worked hard on it, so enjoy! Feedback is welcome as long as it's constructive.  
> Also, I dunno how this chapter will compare to future ones in terms of length, since it's the beginning and all.

               All the other second-graders called her the Lion Girl. She liked the nickname, and would run around the schoolyard at recess, roaring at the other kids. They liked her well enough, and she liked them. Every day she would sit on a bench in front of the school until her brother walked over from the middle school to pick her up. Whenever her older brother stayed after school for archery practice, she would watch everyone else leave, smiling and waving at everyone.

               Even after all the busses had left, and the Lion Girl had pulled out her notebook to draw her friends, she was never all alone. One of the fourth graders was always there. He had black hair and never waved back at her. The Lion Girl always said hi to him anyway. He wasn’t grumpy, or mean, just shy.

               It took months before the boy joined her on the bench one afternoon. The next day, he sat beside her again. He sat beside her every day. He didn’t talk, but he did listen. She told him about her brother, and his weirdo obsession with archery; she told him about how the other kids called her the Lion Girl; she told him about how she love-love-loved to read; she told him all about how her favorite stories were the ones with a knight and a princess. When she wondered out loud why the good stories all had to have the knight save the princess, he frowned, brow furrowed, and shrugged.

               That summer, they were always together. She called him Kitty. He called her Butthead, and when he did, she laughed and shoved him playfully. He learned to brace himself so that he wouldn’t be knocked over when she did. They did everything together – from reading, to watching movies, to playing knight and prince in the woods. He was glad to have a friend.

               Towards the end of the summer, they decided to sneak out together and catch fireflies.

               “Come on Kitty,” The Lion Girl said. “It’ll be fun!”

               “We could get in real trouble,” he protested.

               The Lion Girl rolled her eyes. “All the fireflies are going to be gone, and then we can’t do it at all,” she said, “Don’t you want to catch some?”

               “Ok, ok,” he said. “Whatever you want.”

               The last rays of sun were fading when the Lion Girl and Kitty met at the end of his street. They each held a glass jar with holes punched into the lid. The Lion Girl was smiling a smile that filled her face. She bounced on the balls of her feet, brimming with excitement.

               “Come on Butthead,” Kitty said, “Let’s go.” He walked in front, leading the Lion Girl into the forest. The trees loomed above them, black pillars in the night. They were silent as they walked, listening to the slight rustling of the leaves and the sound of their feet on the forest floor. When the trees formed an unbroken canopy, and the last light of the sun had left the path, the Lion Girl saw the first lightning bug.

               “Kitty, look!” she shouted, chasing after the blinking dot of light. He turned just in time to see her vanish behind a bush.

               “Hey!” he called out after her, running over to the bush and peering around to the other side. The Lion Girl wasn’t there. “Hello?” he called again. There was only silence, and as he stood there, Kitty became acutely aware of his poor night vision. He stood perfectly still, listening. There was no sign of her. His heartbeat was loud in his ears, and he couldn’t hear the rustling of the leaves. A lump formed in his throat.

               “Sorry Kitty,” said a voice from behind him. He jumped. The Lion Girl was standing there, smiling. “I found some bugs,” she said, holding up her jar as proof.

               “Come on,” he said, “Let’s go home.” She pouted.

               “But you don’t even have any bugs yet!” she whined. He rolled his eyes, looking around for something. There was a single blink of light near the ground a few feet away. Sighing again, he walked over to where he had seen the light, squinting as he looked for the insect in the darkness. It blinked again, an inch from his face. Kitty could feel the Lion Girl standing over his shoulder, watching as he raised the jar and lid on either side of the small bug. In one motion, he closed the bug in the jar and screwed the lid shut.

               “Can we go now?” he asked, straightening up. The Lion Girl was smiling at the bug, and pouted again at his question, but stopped when he looked her straight in the eye. “Fiiine,” she said. They turned to leave, following the path as best they could in the darkness. They were quiet again, Kitty leading the Lion Girl, who was holding her lightning bugs in front of her face, and watching them instead of watching the ground. It was still now, the slight breeze from earlier had dissipated, and they seemed to be the only creatures still awake.

               He heard a snap, and stopped dead in his tracks, the Lion Girl bumping into him and looking around.

               “Did you hear that?” he asked.

               “Hear what?” she asked.

               “Let’s hurry up,” he said, taking her by the hand.

               Something moved in the darkness, which the Lion Girl saw this time. She started off, pulling Kitty after her. He stumbled along, watching the place where he had seen the flash of movement. The Lion Girl was small, but strong enough to yank him through the woods while running. Another flash of movement in front of them, and then Kitty saw a flash of teeth. He screamed and dropped to the ground, hearing the snarling whatever-it-was jump over him. He heard a sickening crunch to his left, and a high pitched scream. He curled up even more, squeezing his eyes shut tight. He heard the Lion Girl shout, “Kitt-” but her voice was cut off, tearing into another scream accompanied by a ripping, crunching sound. He could feel wetness on his face, and then something warm: a small hand touching his. It was_ sticky, curled around his hand. Opening his eyes, he could see their hands, but he lay there, not moving his head, and tried not to listen to the crunching. She whimpered, her hand spasming in his, and he shut his eyes tight. Her hand was tugged out of his, and he heard the sound of something being dragged away into the night.

               They didn’t find him lying there, covered in blood and still crying, until the next morning.  

 

               Shards of broken glass littered the street, sparkling like precious gems in the flickering light of the streetlamp. As Karkat Vantas walked, the diamonds beneath his feet crunched. He didn’t have any place to stay, but he wasn’t worried. He was the most dangerous thing on this side of town, he didn’t have anything to worry about. No matter what happened, he could take care of himself.

               A couple old men stumbled out of a bar nearby, laughing loudly. Karkat watched them go, wondering if there was any workaround that might let him get drunk. The men turned a corner, and for a moment, Karkat imagined following them. He was hungry, and he felt like a fight. He quickened his pace. He could already feel the ghost of warmth under his fingertips.

               When he turned the corner, his heart pounding in anticipation, he couldn’t see the men anymore. They must have turned a corner, or re-entered a bar, Karkat couldn’t tell. He sighed, scanning the streets for another meal. There were some homeless kids, but whatever he was, it wasn’t hungry for a fifteen year old. He kept walking, slower this time. He cut across the street, slipping through one alleyway, and then another, all the while keeping his eyes peeled for a lean. It was the time of night where the bars were mostly empty or closed, and nobody respectable was out. The drunks and the street kids out at this time of night were slim pickings, but they were easy enough to catch. It was dark enough that none of his features would be recognizable, and none of them would be considered reliable witnesses by the police anyway.

               He turned a corner onto a street with only one working lamp, and where beams of neon light had ceased to shine from the bar windows. The only people on the street were a block and a half down. Karkat walked towards the two figures. They stood in the recessed doorway of a tall brick building, backs facing him. They were both thin and lanky blondes. The taller of them had spiked hair and a tank top, the shorter had longer hair and a leather jacket. Neither of them looked older than twenty. This would be easy.

               “Hey assholes!” Karkat shouted at them. The taller turned around first, and Karkat was upon them before the shorter was facing him. He took a swing at the taller one, and his fist collided with the man’s jaw. The shorter went to strike, but Karkat sidestepped his blow easily. He saw a glint in the low light, and turning, saw the taller with a knife. Karkat flung his hands up as the knife came at his face. The smaller staggered back a few steps before he regained his footing. Karkat felt an icy cold in his hand. The knife was sticking an inch and a half out of the back. Karkat hissed.

               The smaller came at him again, this time anticipating Karkat’s step back, and bringing his knee up into Karkat’s back. As he fell, the knife was ripped out of the taller boy’s hand. The smaller kicked him hard in the ribs. The taller pinned Karkat with his knee and pulled his knife out of his hand. The icy cold spread over Karkat’s hand, and he smiled. The smaller kicked Karkat again, but the taller pulled him off.

               “Come on Dave,” he said.

               “Fucking bastard started it,” Dave protested.

               As Dave’s companion pulled him away, Karkat slowly got to his feet, wiping the blood on his jeans. “Hey,” he called after them. Dave turned back, then his eyes widened.

               “What the...” he said. His friend turned and stopped.

               “What?” Karkat said, smiling. The two boys were silent, staring. Karkat held his hand up in front of his face and looked at them through the hole. They bolted. Now things were getting fun.

               Karkat sprinted after them, following the taller of the two when they separated. He was fast, but Karkat was faster. He cornered the boy, forcing him to change directions and head down an alley. Karkat leapt at the kid, knocking his target to the ground. The boy struggled, but Karkat straddled him, pinning him to the pavement.

               “Don’t like being on this end of things so much, now do ya?” he whispered into the boy’s ear, grinding his face into the broken glass.

               “Get off me!” The boy said, but Karkat just laughed.

               He looked over the boy. He was skinny sure, but there was enough meat on his bones. Karkat shifted the boy’s head, exposing most of his neck. He could feel the warmth pulsing under his skin. The kid was terrified. He was sweating, and Karkat could see his pulse fluttering.

               The taste of iron flooded his mouth. He could feel the vibration of the kid’s screams through his flesh, and tore off the chunk in his mouth, swallowing it whole. He sputtered, coughing up blood. Karkat hated when they got it everywhere. To shut him up, he flipped the kid over and dove into his windpipe. Not as much iron, not as much heat and sensation, but it was still good. He went for the vocal cords next. Everything was hot. Karkat moved up, getting the base of the tongue, then part of the cheek, then back to the throat. The kid had stopped twitching, but his blood was still flowing. Karkat tilted back the neck and drank it out of the back of the windpipe. The hot iron felt so good. Every part of him was on fire, and he loved it. The deep muscle, the tendons, he stripped the whole neck to the bone.

               Karkat sat back, his hunger sated. Surveying his meal, he saw that the kid’s eyes stared back at him, half open. Ew. Karkat reached in the kid’s mouth and pulled out his tongue, along with a chunk of lower jaw, and stood. He would be fine for another few days at least.

               “What the fuck?” Karkat heard someone say behind him. He whipped around to see Dave standing there. He was staring at the body, mouth slightly ajar, just standing there. For a moment, Karkat considered eating him too. But his stomach was full, and he was tired. He didn’t feel like ripping this kid apart. So instead, he cocked a smile.

               “Yes?” he drawled, “Is something the matter?” He paused, as if legitimately waiting for an answer, before he looked over his shoulder. “Oh, that.” He turned to Dave and smiled even wider. “Oops.”

               “Did…” Dave asked, still staring at the body behind Karkat.

               “Oh, yes. See?” Karkat said, holding up the lower jaw. Dave’s eyes flicked up and locked onto the part of his companion’s face dangling from Karkat’s fist. “Don’t worry, I’m all done now.”

               Dave was frozen, staring at the jaw.

               “You shouldn’t have come back Dave,” Karkat said. “Now I have to deal with you too.” He took a step towards Dave, who jerked backwards in response. His eyes moved to Karkat’s face, which was still wet with blood. Dave ran.

               Karkat sighed. He hated loose ends, but he also hated cleaning them up. Still, he thought, there may be another meal to get out of this if he waited long enough. Tomorrow or the day after he’d be hungry again…

               The alleyway held several dumpsters, the nearest of which allowed Karkat a step stool, from which he climbed onto the roof, using the space between bricks as finger and footholds. The mortar had been used sparingly, leaving deep slots in between the red bricks. Once on the roof, Karkat could follow Dave without detection, as long as he didn’t look up. Dave stopped running three blocks down, slowing to a fast walk as he cut through an alleyway, crossed a street, and cut through another alley. Karkat slunk along the rooftops, following Dave from a distance, watching as he checked over his shoulder again and again.

               When Dave turned off the street into a crumbling apartment building, Karkat dropped to the ground. The glass in the door was cracked, thin lines spidering outwards from the center of the break. The lock was old and rusty, clearly broken. Karkat opened the door slowly and slipped inside. He could hear footsteps down the hall, and crept towards the sound. Dave was pulling something out of his pocket with shaking hands, his unsteady breathing loud in the silent hall. Karkat pressed himself to the wall, melting into the shadows and waiting for Dave to enter the apartment. He stood there, listening for almost an hour.

               When Karkat finally felt that he was in the clear, he approached the door where Dave had stopped. It was a horrible puke-green, with only the faint outline of a number six above the peephole. He tried the door. It was locked. Karkat smiled, pulling at the doorknob experimentally. It was just loose enough that he could get his nails under the base of the knob. He began to pull and twist, working the screws on the other side of the door looser and looser. It took quite some time, though he was too focused on his task to be aware of exactly how long he was taking.

               Finally, the knob on the inside of the door fell out with a thump, and the one in his hand came free, exposing the locking mechanism. He turned it, swinging open the door and stepping into the old apartment.

               The paint on the walls was a graying off-yellow color, which looked as if it had started white. He passed the living room and kitchen, both of which with their fair share of dishes, and went on to the dark hall. There were three doors there, two of which were closed, the third leading onto a tiled bathroom. Karkat listened at the first door, and heard only the building settling around him and the buzz of a window air conditioning unit.

               He moved to the other door and paused to listen. On the other side he could hear even breathing. The door was unlocked, and Karkat crept into the room. It was cluttered and unorganized, and Karkat had to pay extra attention to be sure that he didn’t trip over anything as he moved towards the form on the bed. A streetlamp outside the window cast thin strips of light across the sheets, illuminating a spade here, a diamond there.

               Karkat slipped onto the bed as quietly as he can, shooshing Dave when he stirred, and waiting until his breathing had gone steady again to finish lowering himself onto the bed. It had been so long since he had had a good sleep. His belly was full, and he was warm all over from his meal. The sound of breathing was relaxing, and Karkat found himself lulled into a contented sleep.

 

               He woke up to swearing.

               “What the fuck‽” Dave shouted, scrambling backwards. “How the hell did you get in here‽”

               Karkat blinked the sleep from his eyes and sat up. It took him a moment to work out his location, at which point he smiled toothily at Dave. Dave didn’t seem to appreciate it, and took a swing at Karkat, who easily dodged it and kept smiling.

               “Come on Dave,” he said, batting his eyelashes, “Come back to bed.”

               “Who the fuck are you even?” Dave asked, still flattened against the wall, as far from Karkat as he could get. Karkat’s smile widened, and he leaned closer to Dave, close enough that Dave could feel the cold breath on his skin. “You smell amazing,” Karkat said. He could see Dave’s heartbeat accelerate at that comment. He barked out a laugh and sat back. “If only I were hungry.”

               Dave made some unintelligible sound as his expression shifted from aggressive confusion back to unadulterated fear. Karkat took advantage of Dave’s silence to look him over in the morning light. He was shirtless, and Karkat could see his ribs, could count them. He was scrawny, and his hair was everywhere. He looked young and helpless.

               “You know I can’t just let you wander around,” Karkat said, picking at his fingernails, “It would just be irresponsible.” Dave rolled his eyes. “But I don’t have to kill you right now. If you’re cooperative.”

               “What a sweet deal,” Dave said.

               Karkat threw himself at Dave, grabbing his face and forcing his head so that they were nose to nose. “Excuse me?” he said, “What did you say? Because I can kill you now.” He placed one hand on Dave’s stomach. “I can strangle you with your small intestine if you would like that. No? Well how about opening up that chest cavity of yours. I’m sure I can have plenty of fun in there. Or maybe you would enjoy counting your vertebrae.” Silence. “That’s better.” Karkat didn’t like it when the witnesses protested. He could always kill them sooner or later, and he would figure that anyone would prefer later.

               He slid out of the bed, stretching and yawning. Dave’s room had clothes and wires scattered all over the floor, and he had to be careful where he put his feet to avoid tripping. Dave shifted, and Karkat turned to stare at him.

               “Stay.” Karkat told him. Dave froze. “Good dog.” Dave opened his mouth as if to say something, but he thought better of it. “You stay here. Don’t do anything stupid.” Karkat said, walking out of the room and closing the door behind him. He walked through to the bathroom, listening for Dave. The silence in the apartment indicated his compliance, at least for the time being.

               He turned on the water for the shower and looked at himself in the mirror. His chin and jaw were covered in dried blood, and his clothes were stained with it. His hair was everywhere. He looked a mess. Still, eating and sleeping had done him good. The circles under his eyes were lighter this morning, and his skin, usually ashen, almost looked normal.

               He turned to the shower and kicked off the shoes. The air was already hot with steam. He couldn’t even remember the last time that he’d had a hot shower, it had been so long. Usually he washed the blood and grime off his face in the sink of a public bathroom. If you didn’t bathe properly for long enough, he found, you could get used to the smell pretty easily.

               Taking another step towards the shower, Karkat grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. Looking down at himself, he registered that blood had seeped through his clothes. Behind him, he heard the door creak open. He whipped about and saw Dave, arm raised, flying toward him. In his hand, Karkat could see something. Was that a-

               Karkat felt a warm sensation in his chest. He could feel it spreading, seeping into his bones. It made everything quiet, and slow. Everything was shifting. The bathroom was turning horizontally. The floor was coming up to meet him. Dave was falling away from him. The warmth in his chest was moving through his arms now. Everything was hot. It was burning. He was burning. But at least everything was still again.

               The ceiling was cracked. There were water stains on it. From somewhere far, far away, he heard a whooshing sound. He was hot. His fingers were hot. His knees were hot. His throat was hot. Dave looked very far away. He was holding something. Karkat could hear his voice. It was very quiet. There was something else warm around him. It was hard to move, but he could see it out of the corner of his eye. It was black. It was moving away, covering everything. His toes were hot. His neck was hot. It felt like fire. Everything felt like fire. Dave was still talking. He looked very tiny.

               Beads of water were forming on the ceiling. The air was very warm. It was hard to breathe. Behind Dave, the mirror was foggy. Everything else was foggy. The fire was everywhere. Karkat could feel it. The whooshing sound was loud. It was all around him. Everything was so hot. Everything was foggy. Dave was fading away. Karkat could hear him talking.

               “It was that knife, that freaky old knife you gave me! … yeah … yeah. He’s bleeding black. What do I do! Oh Rose… what do I do?”

               Everything was hot. Everything was dark.


	2. Some Blood is Red, My Blood is Black, Holy Crap I'm Gonna Puke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took forever, but hopefully chapter three will come before the new year??  
> Many thanks to runningonchocolate for beta-ing!

               Everything was bright.

               Karkat blinked and shied away from the light. He was tired, and his everything hurt. He just wanted to fall back asleep. He squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in… in something soft. He blinked, and through his bleary eyes, he saw a pink floral pillow. He yawned and tried to sit up, but he found himself pinned down by a floral comforter. It was stretched tight across the bed, and he figured that it was probably tucked around the mattress.

               He looked around the room. The wallpaper was old and faded, but not chipping. The whole thing reminded him of his grandmother’s house when he was growing up, musty and old. At the end of his bed, a woman sat in a wooden rocker. She was knitting quite intently, her needles clicking as she worked. Her blonde hair was cut in a short bob, and her bangs fell in front of her eyes.

               Karkat tried to wiggle the blankets loose, but as he shifted, the mattress creaked. The woman paused and glanced up at him.

               “Good morning sleepyhead.” She said with a warm smile.

               “What the fuck?” Karkat said, trying again to sit up.

               The woman set her needles to the side and stood up, still smiling at Karkat. “You took quite a beating there.” She said, walking to his side.

               “Who are you?” He asked.

               “Who do you think?” She said. She had put her knitting down, but one of the needles was still in her hand. Karkat glared at her.

               “Why am I here?” He asked.

               The woman frowned at him. “Do you remember what happened to you?” She asked. Karkat raised an eyebrow, and she continued. “Dave, you remember Dave? He stabbed you.”

               Karkat waited a moment, expecting something more, but the woman just looked at him. “He stabbed me?”

               “Stuck you like a pig.” She responded nonchalantly.

               “How the-”

               “The knife was a gift, so we get the pleasure of figuring out what to do with you.” She said.

               Karkat paused, not entirely what to say in response. He had so many questions, and he didn’t trust this mystery woman. She was still smiling at him, her eyebrow raised, everything about her confident. She was a threat, Karkat knew that, but she was standing over him while he lay in bed, too weak to get up. He was bested. He swallowed an argument and asked her quietly, “What happened?”

               “You passed out. Dave caught you off your guard, and that knife has some power to it. You didn’t stand a chance. We brought you here and took it out, took out all the power and let you heal.” She said.

               Karkat fell silent. When the woman said nothing more, he decided to analyze his captor. Her hair was short and blonde, falling in front of her eyes, but he could still see her jaw, her mouth, her neck. Karkat’s stomach rumbled and it occurred to him that he had no idea how long he had been out. For all he knew, it could’ve been weeks since he’d eaten last. He shifted again, and was reminded of the hot hole in his chest.

               He wiggled a little under the covers, testing to see what hurt when he moved. It was concentrated in the middle of his chest, near his sternum. The heat emanated from somewhere three or four inches in, just off to the side of his sternum. The movement hurt. He hissed and stifled a cough. The woman looked up at the sound, and was that a smile?

               “Kan.” She said. “Come over here and help him out.” Karkat froze, looking around the room. He had been certain that he and the woman were alone in the room, but sure enough, a figure melted out of the shadows in the corner of the room. She was tall, with long black hair and dark skin. Her eyes burned in a way that made him look away, something about her was familiar, unspeakably so.

               This second woman moved to Karkat’s side and pulled the quilt away. He felt the cool air of the room against his skin and shivered. He never felt the cold, and the foreign sensation made him shrink away from the woman’s touch, afraid of… something.

               “I’m not going to hurt you.” She said to him. “Look.” The woman peeled the quilt down further, and Karkat could see a good seven inches of bandages wrapped around his chest. They were stained black, but it was the black of water run through mud, not the black of the night. Karkat had the urge to vomit as a wave of revulsion came over him. That was what his blood looked like. It was a dead sort of color.

               “You’re going to be okay.” The woman’s voice broke through his thoughts. Wrenching his attention away from that dead black stain, Karkat realized that he bled all the time. He was covered in his own blood half the time, and never had he reacted as he had just then. Something was changing inside of him. But before this last thought could really occur to him, the woman spoke again.

               “Your bandages need to be changed.” She said. Karkat frowned at her, ready to protest, but she had already hooked her fingers into the top of the bandaging and started to pull it loose. As she unwrapped the bandages, she spoke, but Karkat was too concerned with the wave of nausea rising over him to properly pay attention. As the fabric came away from his chest, he became painfully aware of the way the black blood glued the strips together, and his nausea intensified.

               When the woman’s thin fingers pulled off the last of the bandages, which stuck to his skin, held there with dried blood and cold sweat, the wave of nausea crashed over Karkat. There, in the middle of his chest, just to the left of his sternum, was a hole. Maybe a quarter of an inch in width, and two inches long, the hole was cleanly cut. He could see the white of a bone, and then another. He wondered where all the blood was, and then vomited.

               The sudden movement sent a hot pain through his chest. He could see black blood pooling on the edge of the wound. Everything started to go dark. The woman’s hands were on his arm, and he felt sick. He retched again, and everything was black.

 

               It was some time before Karkat was able to come to for more than a few minutes at a time. At first he dreamed of nothing but black blood and bile, rising out of his dreams momentarily when he felt someone wipe his face, and cover him with something warm. The dreams slowly shifted, from blood and bile to darkness. This blissful darkness was warm, but the warmth ebbed away, leaving only cold behind. He did not wake again at all until the warmth had left him, and the chill had started to settle back into his bones.

               He was first aware of voices around him. As the darkness was washed away, sinking away from him, they became clear. He held still, listening. Two of the voices were familiar – they belonged to the woman who had sat at the end of his bed, and the one who had changed his bandages. A third voice however, the first to become clear, belonged to someone he didn’t recognize.

               “No.” The voice said. “I’m human, I have morals.”

               “Come on Roxy,” the knitting woman’s voice responded. “It’s not like you’re going to talk to him. Besides, we need them.”

               “I said no!” Insisted the woman named Roxy.

               “I’ll do it.” The third woman piped up. Her voice was cool and quiet, but Karkat had no difficulty hearing her words. Everyone was quiet for a moment, and then he could hear the click of high heels on wood, moving away from him and where he lay. “He’s up, by the way.” She said, speaking from somewhere farther away.

               Karkat opened his eyes. He blinked away the sleep, and took in the room. The knitting woman was sitting in the same chair she had been when Karkat had first woken up. There was another woman, hovering near the foot of his bed. This must be the woman named Roxy. The two shared the same blonde hair and sharp jawlines. The standing woman whipped around to face him.

               The tension in the room was palpable. The knitting woman was still, watching Roxy. Her hands had frozen mid-stitch, but Karkat couldn’t read her expression. Roxy was clearer. Everything about her was hostile. After a moment, the knitting woman stood. She took a step towards the bed and stopped.

               “How are you feeling?” She asked Karkat. His chest still ached, but it was a cold ache again, like someone had filled the wound with ice. He was glad – the cold he could handle, black blood or no. He still felt off, but he was certainly getting back to normal. He told her none of this.

               Instead, he smiled a toothy grin. “Just peachy.”

               “Good to hear.” She said. “You’ve been out for quite some time. We were a little worried for a while there.”

               Karkat sat up, ignoring the cold pain in his chest. “I appreciate the concern.” He drawled, swinging his feet off the bed. Roxy glanced at the other woman, gauging her reaction to Karkat’s movements. The other woman did nothing though, simply following him with her eyes.

               Karkat went to stand, but his feet were met with an odd resistance, too yielding to be the floor, and which made his knees too weak to support him. “Wha-?” He said in confusion as he fell back onto the bed. He looked from one woman to the other, searching their faces for some explanation.

               In response, the woman smiled and pointed at the ground by the bed. Karkat pulled up the blanket, peeking over the edge of the bed. Carved into the wooden floor, Karkat could see part of a circle, with some kind of symbols scrawled into it.

               He sat back, letting the blanket fall back to the floor. Fixing a glare onto the smiling woman, Karkat spoke. “What did you do?” He said. His voice was tense, but he did his best to mask it. The hunger in the pit of his stomach was growing, and the image of the smiling woman with her jaw torn off, that smile wiped off her face forever flashed across his vision.

               “It’s a demonic trap.” She said. “You’re not getting out of there unless we let you out.” Both women’s faces were smug, and Karkat’s urge to rip them off swelled. They couldn’t trap him here, who did they think they were?

               He curled his lip and let out a low sort of growl. Roxy took a step forward, and for a moment Karkat thought that she was going to come to him. He smiled, flashing his teeth. He was ready for a fight, and he was ready for a meal. Here was his opportunity.

               But the other woman put out her hand. “Roxy,” She said quietly. Karkat could hear a warning in her voice, and evidently Roxy heard it too. She stopped, settling for simply glaring at Karkat. The woman stood, placing her knitting on her chair, and turning to Roxy.

               “What do you think?” She said.

               “We should’ve left the damn thing in him.” Roxy said. The other woman frowned. “Rose, he’s a monster.”

               The woman named Rose’s frown deepened. “You know it’s possible to minimize the effects.”

               Roxy glanced at Rose again and pulled her farther from Karkat. “Sometimes. When they fight it.” Her voice dropped. “He ate one of my best friends Rose, what sort of progress do you honestly think we can reasonably expect.” She said.

               “He’s got something human left in him.” Rose said. “It didn’t kill him right away, did it?”

               “No.” Roxy admitted. The two fell silent, giving Karkat enough time to process everything that they had said.

               So that boy he ate, the one with the shitty shades, he was a friend of these two? Karkat smiled to himself. He crossed his legs and leaned forward, putting on quite the show of examining his hands. “It was so easy.” He drawled, and both women looked at him.

               “He told Dave to back off.” Karkat glanced up and made eye contact with Roxy. She was visibly bristling, and he wondered how long she would be able to hold back. “The kid should’ve listened. He was no match for me.”

               “Roxy…” Rose said, her focus entirely on the other woman, but Roxy didn’t seem to listen. She took a step forward, towards Karkat.

               “He kept screaming.” Karkat closed his eyes and summoned to mind the feeling of his most recent meal. “Even when his vocal cords were gone. He just gurgled and sputtered.” He could feel his stomach rumble. “I hardly even care that he was a messy one. His piss poor attempt at screaming covered me in blood, but he went down so easy it hardly mattered.” He laughed, flashing Roxy another toothy smile.

               She took another step towards him, and he though he almost had her. If she tried to hit him, he could grab her arm, twist her and use the momentum to slam her down. From there it would be easy. Karkat could twist her arm, breaking it or pulling it out of its socket, sitting on her back and pinning her down. She wouldn’t be able to move from there. If Rose attacked him, He could pull her in. She would trip over her skirt and he could slam her face into the foot of the bed. If the first blow didn’t incapacitate her, he could wait for her to stumble back, and repeat as necessary.

               But she stopped, reaching behind her instead. Her face was set. She pulled a pistol out from the back waistband of her pants and leveled it in Karkat’s direction. He was surprised. He hadn’t thought- Roxy closed one eye, aiming carefully, though quickly, and pulled the trigger.

               Karkat’s shoulder was shot through with an icy cold, and he jerked backwards upon impact. He’d been shot before, of course. He just hadn’t expected it after the warm welcome he’d received from Rose. It took him a moment to blink the room back into focus, but when he did he batted his eyes at Roxy.

               “You didn’t even take me out to dinner first.” He said. “How rude.” Roxy scowled, but Karkat kept her gaze as he raised his hand to the wound. He tested it first, probing the opening with his fingertips. His vision swam, but he kept digging. It wasn’t the first time he’d done this, but it still took several silent minutes of working through the wound before he extracted the projectile.

               His hand was slick with his own blood, and his vision was greying. His arm hung limp and unfeeling by his side, his entire left side spiked with cold. Karkat held up the bullet. “You didn’t think that would shut me up, did you?” He said.

               Roxy wasn’t visibly shaken, he gave her that. The last time he’d been shot, that time in the gut, the fucker had fainted when Karkat had dug around for it. Roxy on the other hand, had raised her eyebrows. She was surprised, angry, but not unnerved. She wasn’t the least bit rattled. Frankly he was impressed. Pissed, but impressed.

               “Next time though, come a little closer, pet.” Karkat said, blinking away the wavers in his vision as best he could. “Because I’d like to take this,” he held up the bullet. “And push it through your eye.”

               Roxy lowered her gun and left the room in a huff. Rose sighed, glancing at Karkat. She seemed disappointed more than anything. Like she had been expecting something from him. But she followed Roxy out of the room.

               It was quiet mostly. Though Karkat could hear muffled voices downstairs somewhere, he couldn’t figure out what they were saying. He looked at the bed spread. It had been changed since the first time he was awake, though it was still a floral comforter. This one was blue though, not pink. The black blood dripping from his shoulder was staining, slowly spreading across the fabric.

               Karkat’s stomach rumbled audibly, and he was reminded again of how hungry he was. He knew that his shoulder wouldn’t be able to recover until he ate something, and he wasn’t eager to go without an arm for any length of time. Sitting there in bed, he really wished he had been able to take that shower at Dave’s. Why couldn’t the bastard stab him _afterward_?

 

               Some time later – Karkat wasn’t sure how much time had passed as he fantasized about a good meal – the voices downstairs started up again. It couldn’t have been more than a few hours, because the drawn curtains were still edged in light. He strained his ears to make out the conversation, but it was muffled through the floor. As the conversation progressed, the voices got louder. Karkat wasn’t immediately sure whether this was because of some disagreement, or because they were getting closer to him, but he realized fairly quickly as he heard three pairs of footsteps pounding up the stairs.

               The door swung open, and there was the woman who had changed his bandages, flanked on either side by Roxy and Rose. Rose and Roxy wore smug expressions, but the woman in the middle was unreadable. Again, Karkat felt a deep seated fear rise in him.

               “Let’s see if feeding him helps any.” Rose said, walking forward, to the end of his bed. She stopped at the foot-board and stared at him, not malicious, but perhaps contemptuous.

               The woman who had changed his bandages was holding several boxes, stacked one on top of another. They all had air holes, and she set them down gently on a chair in one corner of the room. Roxy hung back, watching everything else in the room warily.

               The woman with the boxes opened one of them and reached in. She pulled out a white rabbit. She held it gently, as one might hold a baby, and cooed to it. She rocked it gently, walking slowly across the room. She approached Karkat without looking at him.

               Only when she came right up alongside the bed did she look at Karkat. When they made eye contact, he felt as if a bucket of ice water had been upended over his head. Her gaze was piercing, and he shied from her touch as she reached out towards him, but all she did was drop the rabbit into his lap. It turned to him, sniffing the air.

               “Eat up.” The woman said. Karkat looked at the rabbit. They expected him to eat this? He snorted, looking at the creature. It wiggled its tiny nose at him.

               “Do you honestly think I’ll settle for this?” Karkat said to Rose, avoiding the gaze of the woman closest to him.

               “You don’t have much of a choice.” Replied the woman beside him. He gulped, picking up the animal. It was warm, and he could feel its fragile heart beating beneath his fingers. Dignity or no, he was hungry. He snapped the rabbit’s neck, hearing a satisfying crunch as the thin bones shattered beneath his fingers. He hooked his fingers beneath the animal’s ribs and tore it in half, pulling out its organs and stuffing them in his mouth, glaring at her.

               He hated to admit it, but - Karkat thought - rabbit didn’t taste half bad.


End file.
